


Pinned

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [12]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, First Kiss, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Rough Body Play, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil start to work some things out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinned

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Rough Body Play

The mission had been a clusterfuck. He and Coulson had ended up stuck in a goddamn cage, for fuck's sake, and Clint knew he had totally embarrassed himself by getting a hard-on while he was pressed up against Phil's body. As usual, he'd managed to fuck things up for himself.

Then they had been called for debrief on the Helicarrier, for reasons that were above Clint's security clearance. His debrief had been almost as embarrassing as being cut out of the damn cage by Sitwell's team, consisting as it did of saying that no, he didn't notice anything before they got knocked out, and no, he couldn't identify their assailants, and no, he had no idea what had happened until they woke up caged, and no, they hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it until they were rescued.

Clint was in the temp quarters he'd been assigned, doing handstand push-ups against the wall in an attempt to work off some of the frustration he was feeling. When there was a knock on the door, he figured it was a call to go back for yet more pointless debriefing. He kicked off the wall, stood up, waited a second for the head rush to pass, and opened the door to find Coulson standing there.

Undoubtedly, Coulson was there to tell him off for his behaviour during the mission. 

"What do you want?" 

"Can I come in?"

Or maybe Coulson was going to tell him he was reassigning Clint to another handler, or, even worse, be kind and gentle and let him down easy. Explain that he's flattered and everything, but he doesn't feel that way about Clint after all. Clint backed away to let Coulson step into the room and close the door behind himself. 

"What do you want, Coulson?" Clint asked again, and braced himself for what he thought he was going to hear.

"I want to take you home and lay you out on my bed and learn every inch of your body with my lips. I want to fuck you slow and deep, and then so fast and hard that we both scream as we come. I want to kiss you and hold you afterwards. I want you to stay the night, and make you breakfast in the morning. I want to do all that as often as possible, in the context of a mature, exclusive, committed emotional relationship. And I want us to continue to work together, with the same degree of professionalism we have now. Think you can handle that Barton?"

"Quit fucking with me Coulson, it's not funny." Clint turned away, but the room wasn't big enough for him to get very far. Phil grabbed his arm,

"Clint," 

Clint shrugged roughly out of Phil's grip, "Look, I lost it when I was crammed into a fucking cage with you half naked. I'm fucking sorry. You've had your little joke with me about it, now fuck off."

Coulson was surprised, but he was smart enough (and knew Clint well enough) to know that he was protesting too damn much. Phil was pretty damn sure that Clint wanted this as much as he did, but something was making him run away from it. Phil wasn't willing to give up easily, not after how hard it had been to make himself come here and say those words, so he took a calculated risk, slammed Clint bodily back into the wall and kissed him. Hard. Hard enough to bruise. Both of their mouths were hot and open. Their bodies pressed tight. Clint's back was to the wall and he was back in the cage remembering the feel of Phil's naked chest against his, breathing the smell of his sweat. Breathing it again now. 

'No. I can't do this. I can't let this happen,' thought Clint. 'If I let this happen, I'm gonna fall so far into him I'll never escape. I'll drown in him. I...' 

Clint shoved Phil off, but he was gripping him hard by the upper arms, a perfect demonstration of the conflict Clint was feeling. Clint tightened his grip, his fingers pressing harder and harder into Phil's biceps. Phil didn't protest, even though it hurt and he knew he was going to have bruises. Clint stared at him, and Phil just stared back, waiting for Clint to decide. 

Clint hooked a leg around Phil's ankle and shoved him to the floor, going down on top of him, but Phil wasn't going to stay down without a fight. This felt like something Clint needed, somehow, and Phil was more than willing to give it to him. Phil rolled out from under Clint as if they were back on the training mats in the gym instead of on the hard textured steel floor of the Helicarrier's temp quarters. They wrestled for position, Clint stronger and more agile, Phil shrewd and slippery.

They grappled and grunted and the air of the small room started to smell of their sweat and arousal. Both of them knew this was foreplay, a prelude to fucking. Clint got his thigh between Phil's legs and pressed into his groin, hard. Neither of them spoke, but Phil looked into Clint's eyes, trying to bridge the final gap.

Clint pinned Phil on his back with the weight of his body, stretched out full length on top of him. The weight meant Phil could only breathe in shallow pants, and after a couple of seconds of futile straining, his body went lax. Clint grabbed Phil's wrists and pinned them above his head. A triumphant look flashed across his face for a moment before he looked down at Phil's and saw his lips moving. Clint didn't know if there was any sound, if Phil had the breath to speak aloud, but Clint didn't need to hear it to recognize the word on Phil's lips, "Please."

And Clint suddenly realized that he wasn't the only one who was falling. Not the only one who was drowning. Phil was looking up at him with need and want and hope and lust. 

Clint looked back, and let himself fall into those eyes. Neither of them moved. Their breathing calmed. Slowly, Clint leaned closer to Phil, still staring into his eyes, and kissed him. Softly. Gently. Sweetly. Clint shifted some of his weight off Phil and onto his knees, but kept his grip on Phil's wrists with one hand. He carded the fingers of his other hand through Phil's hair, and then kissed him again, still gentle at first and then flicking out his tongue in a request. Phil kissed him back, mouth open, body starting to respond beneath him. 

A quiet moan escaped. Tongues curled and thrust. Bodies started to shift and rub. An alarm went off.

"Fuck." Clint released Phil's wrists and sat up. 

Clint rolled smoothly and gracefully to his feet, then reached down to give Phil a hand up. 

"I meant every word I said," Phil said before letting go of Clint's hand.

"Yeah. OK." Phil didn't know if that meant Clint believed him, or was agreeing to a relationship, or what, but he figured he'll find out soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my patient and understanding editor t!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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